


Work B*tch

by VampyrePrince



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP, crack!fic, stripper!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampyrePrince/pseuds/VampyrePrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes home to an interesting experiment being conducted by Sherlock involving a pole, and John is the test subject.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work B*tch

**Author's Note:**

> My last work was an angsty one, so I'm going to make up for that with this crazy piece of work. I wrote it just to cheer myself up, and because I heard this song and it inspired Sherlock's stripping song: http://youtu.be/pt8VYOfr8To
> 
> Sorry if the characters are a bit ooc, it couldn't really be helped with this kind of fic, haha. It's just something meant to be short and sweet, and just a bit silly.

As John walked through the door to the flat, he was met with the odd sight of a long metal pole extending from floor to ceiling. He quirked an eyebrow and slowly removed his coat, his body frozen to the spot as he blinked a few times just to be sure he was seeing things correctly. “Sherlock?” The detective popped his head around the doorway to the kitchen and smiled. 

“Ah, John! Good!”

“What in the hell is something like that doing in the flat?” Jesus, John could only imagine what Mrs. Hudson would think if she saw, but then again she probably already had.

“Experiment. Tea?” The doctor's eyes narrowed with suspicion as he slid over into his chair, a steaming cuppa now resting on the end table beside him. Sherlock's experiments usually consisted of foul-smelling substances and disgusting elements that John never got close enough to identify, but there weren't any traces of any said substances to be seen. The only thing that the doctor could clearly see was the pole, and he knew what they were used for.

“What kind of experiment, if you don't mind me asking?” Sherlock stood before John with his hands in his pockets, a look of pure mischief in his eyes.

“Surely even you would be able to deduce that.” John swallowed hard and watched the detective nervously.

“Don't tell me you're going to use... that.” Sherlock shot his blogger a sly grin and walked backwards to turn off the lamp by his chair as well as a few others, the only light now being from the fireplace in which a warm fire was crackling in the hearth, providing a lovely atmosphere as well as an erotic scene of shadows against the wall. John's pulse quickened and he felt his body beginning to stir. He was waiting for the dream to end at any moment. 

But it wasn't a dream.

Sherlock made his way back over to his doctor and bent over, capturing his lips in a quick kiss before moving to the side and turning on the iPod sitting on the desk. John frowned. “Is that mine?”

“You'll thank me later.”

“I never gave you permission to use my- my-” Sherlock had lowered himself onto John's lap, facing him as he brushed their lips together. A deep bass began to pound over the speakers as Sherlock leaned back, teasing John further as he slowly unbuttoned his jacket. The detective bit his lip as he slid the bothersome garment out of the way, his shirt buttons coming next. “Jesus Sherlock.”

“Mmm, John.” The doctor groaned as he grew hard in his jeans, watching as Sherlock threw his head back and came forward again, his shirt now hanging off of his shoulders as he slid his thin hips against John's erection. The doctor reached around and grabbed Sherlock's ass as the detective's hands flew up to John's shoulders, latching on for leverage as they moved together. 

“Oh God, Sherlock turn around.” The detective smirked and twisted his body in one fluid movement, his back to John's chest and his head on the doctor's shoulder. He pressed down against John's aching cock and moved his hips in circles, his own erection becoming painfully hard. 

“I could make you come like this.” John threw his head back and moaned. He loved it when Sherlock talked dirty, which was a rare occurrence. He couldn't take much more of this.

“Fuck, you're killing me.”

“Oh not yet, John.” Sherlock stood from John's lap and let his shirt slide down his arms, finally pulling it off and throwing it in the doctor's direction. Next came his trousers, and it took every bit of willpower within John not to whimper as Sherlock leaned back against the pole, a large bulge tenting in his underwear. It was so unbelievably dirty and it made it that much more arousing. 

John licked his dry lips as he watched Sherlock twist his hips down the pole, long skinny arms above his head as he stared unabashedly at the doctor. He slid back up, this time grabbing onto the metal and swinging around until he was grinding against it, his back arched and his head thrown back. It was too much for John, he had never seen Sherlock act so openly sexual. He was also discovering that Sherlock was rather good at dancing. When, and where, had he learned to move like that?

John rose from his chair and approached Sherlock, who smiled and stopped moving his hips long enough to be wrapped in the doctor's arms, their lips crashing together in a messy, needy kiss that was full of moans and intense heat. Seconds later Sherlock found himself pinned between the sofa and John, his pants gone and a beautiful, hot pair of lips bringing him to an explosive release.

~Fin


End file.
